


Mine

by oddsnends



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 04:39:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16716739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddsnends/pseuds/oddsnends
Summary: A fevered blur, through names obscured, and speeches slurredWhat’s another bridge burned?I’m on my own, you came aloneAll dressed up in bad newsI know you’ve been hurt tooThis would be the wrong moveMaybe we should leave soonYou can lay with me while you think of himDrown our sorrows deep in each other’s skinI touch your face while I think of herI will raise my lips to the way we wereBite my neck while you say his nameI will scratch your back to forget her faceOur regret tastes sweet through a soft liqueurWe can raise our lips to the way we were





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A fevered blur, through names obscured, and speeches slurred  
> What’s another bridge burned?  
> I’m on my own, you came alone  
> All dressed up in bad news  
> I know you’ve been hurt too  
> This would be the wrong move  
> Maybe we should leave soon  
> You can lay with me while you think of him  
> Drown our sorrows deep in each other’s skin  
> I touch your face while I think of her  
> I will raise my lips to the way we were  
> Bite my neck while you say his name  
> I will scratch your back to forget her face  
> Our regret tastes sweet through a soft liqueur  
> We can raise our lips to the way we were

Outside was cold in the bitter winter not that it mattered to you, inside, wrapped up in the furs of none other than the newly crowned King of Kattegat. Ivar the Boneless, son of Ragnar, nothing but the town cripple had rose to his position of power in the only way he knew how. Taking what he wanted, showing no mercy, and no cares for those who were cut down along the way.

If somebody had something that Ivar wanted, he took it. Land, titles, women. Nothing was off limits to the handsome and feared King. Not even his favoured brother’s wife to be.

You had been promised to Hvitserk Ragnarsson when your father wanted to please the gods and his former King Ragnar. The lanky glutton Hvitserk was handsome enough, but too wrapped up in his own desires and darkness to care about you or your position as his wife to be. If he did care, he had a funny way of showing it while he ran off with every other woman who looked in his direction.

Ivar on the other hand – Ivar paid you the attention you craved. Even if it meant you sneaking around like a thief in the night, the time spent in the King’s grasp was worth it.

“You came alone?” Ivar’s stern voice was greeted you, when you ducked into his quarters.

Lowering the hood of your cloak, you nodded quickly.

“Nobody saw you?” He questioned from his position on a stool in the corner.

“If they did then they were not expecting it to be me, under this.” You held up the stolen cloak. The dark cloak had belonged to one of Ivar’s slaves. “Your slave girl left this behind, when she fled two moons ago. Your brother was too stupid to notice that she had left without it.”

“Nobody has ever claimed Hvitserk to be the smart brother.” Ivar’s laugh was deep in his chest. If his idiot brother wanted to squander his affection away on slaves, so be it, that only meant more of you for Ivar and a waiting punishment when Ivar found which slave had pissed you off.

“It must be a good thing the Gods made him handsome, then.” You smirked knowing that the small compliment paid to the older brother would irritate Ivar. On cue, Ivar’s rolled his eyes and snarled. “Not as handsome as you, my King.”

“What is with the flattery? You already know that you’ve a place in my bed. Now come,” He waved his hand at you, beckoning you to him, “Let’s not waste any more time discussing my brother.”

Stepping closer, you watch intently as Ivar chews his bottom lip, his hands reaching for you as he continues to sit on the stool at waist height.

This wasn’t the first time you had snuck away to be with Ivar, nor would it be the last. This had all started as some sort of twisted game, when Ivar had heard the rumors of his brother’s unfaithful ways. Wanting what he couldn’t have, after being left lonely by his last lover, Ivar had pursued you and won. Who were you to deny the most powerful man in Kattegat?

Kneeling before him, your head lulled as his hands undid your dress. Pushing the material off of your shoulders to free your breasts. Ivar hummed in approval, dipping his head to kiss your neck and collar bones. Steadying himself by holding onto your shoulders, Ivar pulled his head away, his eyes glassy with the sudden desire that had overcame him.

“What are you waiting for?” His voice was eerily calm. His swollen lips turning into a smirk. How you wished to kiss him properly, but he never allowed it, a mystery in the riddle that was Ivar.

Undoing the buckle on his belt, Ivar watched you closely, your hands tugging the material of his pants down as far as you could in his seated position. Ivar never allowed you to take his pants off the full way, it went without saying that he was never going to allow another to see his useless legs. Your hands fumbled only slightly working to free him, faced with his prick you looked up at him, waiting for your next command.

“You know what to do,” Ivar gestured for you to continue. Wrapping your hand around his girth, you smiled when Ivar hissed under your touch. You’d be a fool to think he hadn’t used his prick in the days since you’d last been together. Ivar took pride in having any woman he wanted, but when the one he wanted the most was occupied, taking care of himself wasn’t a difficult task.

Working your hand up and down the shaft, you took your sweet time, making sure to get him excited enough for what was to follow. Some days it would take what felt like a dog’s age to get Ivar hard, on others he would barely look in your direction and would be begging to be released.

“Stop,” Ivar grabbed your hair, pulling your head back as you were about to take him in your mouth. Licking your lips, your eyes searched his face. He loved it when you sucked him. Had you done something wrong?

“Was that not pleasing?”

“If I allow you to work your magic, in that way, there will be nothing left for anything else.” Ivar moved passed you, crawling the short distance to his bed. “Come, now!”

His demands shamefully turned you into a mess. His voice and eyes said it all, without so much as a touch, Ivar could have you begging him for more while a release crept up on you. His older brother would do well to learn such techniques and dominance. If Hvitserk worried about your pleasure as much as he did his own, you would be more willing to lie with your soon to be husband.

“Get on your knees,” Ivar demanded sharply. You had no other choice but to comply, your dress clinging around your waist, pushed to the floor before you joined him on the bed. Bent before him in the desired position, you resisted the urge to look back at Ivar. It was all part of the game, do as he said and enjoy the reward.

“Ivar.” Your whimper was like music to his ears. “Please,”

He loved to hear you begging him.

It took only a minute for Ivar to position himself, his body resting over yours, if you were uncomfortable with the extra weight bearing down on you then it was best to never say. You widened your legs, allowing him to rest between them. In a swift and practiced motion, Ivar grunted and you felt his tip nudge your folds, with another quick breath his prick sank into you.

Comfortably stretching to fit around him, your heart began to thunder against your chest, drowning out the world around you. Tonight he didn’t bother with the formalities as it were, there would be no exploring one another in a slow and soft manner. Tonight Ivar was looking for a quick and fast release, who were you to tell him No?

His body was warm on top of yours, his hands gripping your hips while he took a few seconds to tease you. Fully sheathed inside of you; Ivar slowly moved his hips back inch by inch and paused. Waiting for the right moment to drive himself forward, hitting the most delicate spot on your body in only the way he could. You sighed softly in frustration.

“Is something the matter, my dove?” Ivar’s breath was hot on your ear.

“N..No.” You squeaked, clenching your eyes shut in an attempt to keep from begging. He wanted you to beg, to plead, and stroke his ego a little.

“Then you will be fine, if we stop this here and now? You’re okay, if I sent you back to my useless brother?” Ivar’s tongue traced the shell of your ear. His prick barely grazing against you.

“Y..yes.”

“Oh dove, why do you lie to me?” Ivar made a tsk noise, his hands gripping your hips harder than before. Fingers biting into your flesh, he jerked forward with all his strength, sending him back into you with a sharp pain.

“Ivar!” the wail rose from your throat.

It was as if the world had stopped and you were suspended in time, when you were with Ivar. The feeling he could bestow upon you was one that you would find yourself craving for days after he last had you. This would be no exception. His body grew heavier and his chest sweatier, bodies tied together in an absolute intimate moment left you gasping and practically in tears.

“Does he make you feel this good? Can my brother make you scream the way that I do?” Ivar’s teeth sank into the skin on your shoulder, barely missing your neck. Hissing in pleasure, you shook your head, finding your voice would be impossible. “I can’t hear you,” Ivar grunted with a hard thrust.

“No, no Hvitserk cannot make me,” You gasp, “Scream the way that you can, my King.”

“Your King,” Ivar’s laugh was dark. “Is that why you lie with Me? Because I am your King?” He grunted in exertion and pleasure.

“No,” You shook your head, the last thing you wanted was Ivar thinking that you were only with him because he was King. Your reasons were deeper than that.

“Do you only come to me, because you think I demand it?” Ivar pried for answers while his fingers pried into your sides, his hips snapped forward thrusting deeper.

“No! No, Ivar; I lay with you because it is my choosing.” You whimper at the feeling flooding your body. “Because, because,” You stammer like a fool when his tongue traces between your shoulder blades, “you please me far better than anyone ever has.”

“And I,” His words were tight between a heaving breath, “keep you because there is nobody who excites me more.” His breath sent a shiver through you, thrusting harder and more frantically, Ivar grunted loudly bellowing into the dark.

“I-Ivar.” Your breath was caught in a gasping scream.

It was as if you’d saw the Gods themselves when you were with Ivar, the spark and the fire that he could send running through your body was mightier than any feeling you’d ever felt. Your body coated in a sheen of sweat, your lungs constricting as you made the attempt to level your thoughts once more. Beside you, Ivar laid flat on his back, his hair stuck to his head and his face flushed.

Gathering your wits, you rolled over, now was the part you hated the most. You would get dressed and head back to the home given to you solely because of your position with Hvitserk. The cold, dull, loveless home loomed in your mind.

“Stay,” Ivar reached for your hand, drawing you back to him. If he wanted you in his bed there were no words to make you leave. Odin himself couldn’t drag you away.

“You are impossible,” You lie back into the furs, your body snuggling into Ivar. “How can I ever deny you?”

Not answering, Ivar’s hand stroked the back of your hair, his eyes locked on your face. Red with the exercise that you had just endured. His blue eyes studying you carefully, one hand on your stomach and the other behind your head – a simple gesture and your body was still lit on fire from Ivar’s contact.

“You always do as I ask,” Ivar’s tone meant business. “What if I asked you to renounce Hvitserk in order to be my wife?”

“My father…”

“Your father has long since gone, as is mine. I am King now and I want you to be my wife.” Ivar spoke as if the mead had finally rotted his brain.

Biting your bottom lip, you laid silently.

“Well?”

“But Hvitserk.”

“What about him? He is an idiot. A fool for not loving you, for not wanting you in his bed. I want you, here, not as some woman who keeps my bed warm. I want you here as my wife, Queen of Kattegat. Stay here, sleep and come daylight I want your answer.” Ivar lazily sighed, his hands leaving their position on you, before he moved to roll himself onto his side. “My brother can give you a house, but I can give you far more.”

His words burning into your ears, you flap your mouth as if you are a fish. “I…I shall ask the Gods then.” You reply staring at the back of his head, unsure if he’d heard your answer or if he’d drifted off.


	2. Chapter 2

A child was to be born, parents unwed, causing a great stir among the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok.

The seers words swirled in your head for a long period of time now, so much that you’d grown almost paranoid of your meetings with Ivar. Keeping the words to yourself, going about your business as usual. If a child were to be born to you and Ivar, there was no telling what would happen. Although Hvitserk wasn’t a mean man, there was a darkness to him and you knew that your husband to be would not accept defeat in such a manner.

You had grown fond of Ivar; you possibly loved him, but until the time was right there was the matter of you being promised to Hvitserk. Days stretched and Ivar was growing restless with you, wanting his answer. You had asked the Gods a handful of times and each time they would give you the same cautious tale.

A child was to be born.

Daybreak was approaching as you laid in Ivar’s bed, his head against your chest, as he slept soundly in your arms. How the great Heathen King looked so delicate and dare you say innocent when he slept. Gently brushing your fingers through his hair, you kissed the top of his head and closed your eyes, inhaling his scent. This is what you wanted more than anything, to be here every second of every day.

“You are troubled.” Ivar’s voice jolt you from the thoughts.

“I didn’t know you were awake.” You press another kiss to the top of his head. “Did I wake you?”

“No,” Ivar answered in a hushed tone. His fingers lacing with yours, he gently kissed the back of your hand, the tiny bit of hair on his lip brushed your skin. “What has you awake?”

“Another conversation with the gods.” You admit, shifting to allow Ivar space to turn over. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, Ivar gazes up at you.

“And what do they tell you today? Hmm? That you should leave my fool of a brother?”

Gathering the courage, you boldly repeat the seer’s words. “A child will be born, parents unwed, this birth shall create a stir among the sons of Ragnar.”

Ivar’s laugh startles you, the room is dim and his laugh seems to echo from the walls. “Are you and my brother with child? Is that why you refuse my answer?”

“No, my King.” You feel small under his cold stare. “Hvitserk and I have not been intimate in some time. If I were with child, it would be with you, Ivar.”

Ivar snorted, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “Me father a child? If that is to be then don’t bother to get attached to it. I should do what my father couldn’t,” His words burned as he spoke.

Your words felt heavy and foreign like. “Hvitserk has a new thrall daily, surely one of them must be bearing his child by now.”

Ivar gritted his teeth, mulling over the idea. If Hvitserk were to father a child with some common whore or one of his slaves, it would be the opening that Ivar needed. If Hvitserk had indiscretions it would be the perfect opportunity for you to claim you wanted to be rid of him.

Skimming your finger tips over his bare arms and chest, you lay behind Ivar cradling him in your arms, allowing him to take time with his thoughts. You had been very clear, when telling him that you would agree to marry him, there was to be no blood and no trail of bodies as Ivar often left.

With killing Hvitserk off of the table – admittedly a thought that had crossed Ivar’s mind a few times - Ivar had to be smart about this, use his mind and his tactics to plan and process how to steal you away. You were free to choose what it was you wanted, but if Hvitserk didn’t want to let you go then that could pose a problem and Ivar was not Ubbe. The King wasn’t willing to enter into one of those shared marriage situations. He wanted you as his and he would not allow another man to share his most precious person.

“Turid!” Ivar bellowed causing you to flinch as he screamed out for the young slave. As if she had been waiting, the smallish blonde slave hurried into the room, her eyes cast to the floor not daring to look her master in the eye.

You had always held a soft spot for the meek girl, assuring that Ivar never used or abused her in any manner that would leave her scarred, emotionally or physically. Smiling warmly at the slave, you whisper a gentle reminder for Ivar to be polite.

“Hvitserk, I need you to fetch him. Tell him that he is needed in the great hall and I do not want to be kept waiting.” Ivar gave the clear and precise directions. “If he is otherwise occupied, tell him this is a direct order and I will not hold back on consequences.” Ivar’s smile was dark.

Thanking Turid for going to fetch your husband to be, you turn to Ivar who is looking at you with the most interested gaze.

“Why are you nice to her?”

“She has done nothing wrong, Ivar.” You remind him, with a gentle kiss, you emerge from his bed to dress before Hvitserk arrives. Stretching your naked form, you sigh and shiver against the cold in the air. “Turid is here as a payment, if you remember, from a family who had nothing left to offer their king.”

“She is like you.” Ivar’s icy blue eyes roamed your body, sad to see you slowly covering with your dress.

“I was never a slave. Being offered to the Son of Raganar is not the same.” You protest with a pout. Secretly, you assume, that is the very reason you are kind to the girl. You know what it is like being sent away from your family, having to live among people you have never met and forcing yourself to care about them. “Now come, you should be ready when Hvitserk arrives.”

Stretched out in bed, Ivar rolled his tongue around his cheek, biting his lip in thought. Whatever was going on in that pretty head of his would have to wait, or so you assumed. Shifting to sit up properly in bed, Ivar began to pick at the furs laid over his body.

His voice was clear and direct, his words sending a sense of panic through you. “I shall offer her to Hvitserk, in exchange for you.”

“Ivar!” You hiss loudly at him, your eyes locked on him as if your stare could turn him to a flaming pile of ashes. “You will not trade me as if I am some animal.” You shriek. “Nor will you allow your fool of a brother to lay a hand on Turid. Give him someone else, another woman, one who he has already used for his own pleasures.”

Rolling his head from side to side, easing the tension in his back, Ivar sighed. “He is a fool, but he is not stupid enough to take some thrall he has already had.”

“I will not allow it.” You place your hands on your hips, continuing to shoot daggers with your glare. “If you wish for me to be your wife, to be your Queen, then you will do this for me. Save Turid, for me. I will need a slave when I become Queen of Kattegat.”

“What else would you have me do?” Ivar muttered, not impressed with your shooting down his best idea yet.

“Get dressed and take your throne, we will discuss this when Hvitserk arrives.” You instruct picking up his tunic from the previous evening and throwing it at him, as you exit the bedroom.

Turid didn’t take long to return with Hvitserk not far behind, the slave girl was barely through the door before the tall, lanky Viking strode in behind her. His face wore a smirk and his eyes were glassy, as if he had been drinking – no surprise there.

“Ivar.” Hvitserk’s voice echoed against the walls of the hall. “What do I owe this pleasure, brother?” He sank down in the empty throne next to his youngest brother.

Gritting his teeth in annoyance, Ivar sighed, wishing Hvitserk would stop sitting on that damn throne. He had not earned it and yet it was his favourite place to sit, no matter how many times Ivar told him not to. You watched from the corner of the room, your presence not yet noticed by Hvitserk.

“You have something I want, brother.” Ivar began slowly, gliding his fingers along the arm of his throne. With a wave of his hand, Ivar glanced to where you waited, guiding you to step forward.

“I do not understand.” Hvitserk dismissed a slave girl who had been offering him a horn of mead. “You are the King of Kattegat, what could I have that you want?”

“Her.” Ivar gestured to where you stood, hands clasped before you, waiting for some acknowledgment from your husband to be. “I want her.”

“Her?” Hvitserk repeated the word. Laughing into his mead, he took a drink, wiping his hand across the back of his mouth. “What would you do with her? She is useless, Ivar.”

“I am not as useless as you assume, Hvitserk.” You calmly retort, now is not the time to go pointing fingers and throwing around blame. “Surely more useful than you.”

Nostrils flared in frustration, Hvitserk lowered his mead, his eyes locked on yours. You had witnessed this look before, the same one he wore when things didn’t go his way. Such a spoiled child.

“I give you a home, I parade you around Kattegat like a prize, and you still refuse me. How am I the useless one?” Hvitserk questioned.

“As your wife to be, I don’t appreciate you off with every pair of tits that look your way. If you paid me the attention that Ivar does, maybe I would be of more use to you.” You spat, snarling at the fair haired man sitting before you. “If you were to treat me as if I am a human, then you may see things differently.”

Ivar sat, a smirk etched into his face, he loved a good confrontation. More so, when he wasn’t the one engaged in the argument.

“Do you believe that my brother treats you as an equal?” Hvitserk chuckled. Glancing at Ivar, he shook his head. “Ivar is incapable of treating anybody well. He gives you attention, because he wants what he can’t have.”

“You leave her to chase every woman in Kattegat,” Ivar scoffed at Hvitserk’s logic. “She is a woman, Hvitserk. Not a toy. You would do good to remember that. A woman needs attention, brother. Otherwise they grow bored.”

“And what do you know about pleasing women?” Hvitserk’s gaze landed back on you.

“Your wife to be doesn’t complain, when she is beneath me, trying to forget you and remember what pleasure feels like.” Ivar egged on. “You have no desire to be married, Hvitserk. She does not want you, otherwise she would never have come to me. Let’s settle this, shall we?” Ivar’s brow was raised in an attempt to look as innocent as possible. Hvitserk’s eyes were growing dark, his fingers gripping his ale horn so tightly, you felt he may shatter it. “Give her to me.”

“Hvitserk, you have said it yourself that I am useless. Why bother with me, when you can entertain one of the others you keep? Perhaps the one who is already with child?” You do your best to speak softly. You have no real clues to whether or not Hvitserk has one of his many women in such a state, but he will tell on himself if he thinks you know.

Hanging his head, Hvitserk rubs the back of his hand across his nose, licking his lips, his eyes shifting uneasily. You have known Hvitserk long enough to know that you have hit a nerve and he is growing anxious. Leaning toward his brother, Ivar sneers.

“Something you would like to share?”

“It is not my child,” Hvitserk mutters, his eyes on the floor. “I provide for her, but she is not mine.”

“Then whose is she?” Ivar drug out his words with a curiosity to his tone.

“Before he…” Hvitserk paused, “Before we left to avenge father, Sigurd had a series of affairs, one resulting in a daughter. I have been caring for her since my return. She is family, Ivar. I could not see her go without.”

A child was to be born, parents unwed, causing a great stir among the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok.

While trying to figure out which woman was carrying Hvitserk’s child, you had forgot to look outside of the situation. There were more than two sons of Ragnar after all. Sigurd had fathered a child, the news was startling and quite unexpected. Ivar shifted around on his throne, irritated by the news and the fact that nobody had bothered to tell him. Had they not felt the need to tell him he had a niece floating around Kattegat?

“Who knows of this?” Ivar’s nostrils flared with his question.

“Only Ubbe and Bjorn has his suspicions.” Hvitserk answered in a meek manner.

“Was I not worthy of knowing? Her own blood, the King, was I to be left in the dark until one day she came calling while I was on my death bed?” Ivar grunted at Hvitserk.

“She was born while we were in England, when we arrived home, her mother had panicked upon hearing the news of Sigurd. What was I to do, Ivar? Would you have accepted her, had I told you? Would you have taken them in as your responsibility? You were angry and hurt.”

“Ivar,” Your approach is soft and gentle. Stepping up beside his throne, you place your hand on his shoulder. “Before you speak, remember that this is an innocent child. She has done nothing wrong and is here by circumstances that she can not control.”

Ivar glanced at you, his eyes cold and hard, but his face held a softness that you had come to know. His words came slowly and genuine. “I shall like to meet her and her mother.”

“I will have it taken care of.” Hvitserk nodded, his eyes flickering to you waiting for your confirmation. “We shall dine here, when you are ready.”

“Good, now leave.” Ivar waved his hand lazily, as if forgetting the real purpose of Hvitserk’s visit. “Both of you, go!”

In haste to leave, you flee behind Hvitserk, coming to realize your mistake when you step out into the chilly morning. Shivering against the wind, you are grateful when Hvitserk wraps his cloak around you. His body bracing for the chill, he will weather it easier than you.

Without a word, he turns on his heels and walks away, you only allow him to get a few feet ahead before rushing to fall in step with the prince. “Hvitserk.” You grab for his arm, turning him in a stop.

“What do you want? If it is a place to stay until your lover calms down, perhaps you should go see someone else.” His voice is irritated.

“Is this you giving in?” You narrow your eyes, in suspicion. “You do not want me,”

“Says who?” Hvitserk challenges standing straight he is nearly a head and a half taller than you.

“I could see,” Your smile is small but knowing. Relieved that this may be easier than you’d ever planned. “When you spoke of Sigurd’s daughter and her mother. You care for them.”

“She is my family.” Hvitserk deflects the comment.

He should know better than to try and fool you. Perspective as you are, his mother had always said that you had a direct line to the Gods, you knew everything because they whispered in your ear. A reason that Ivar favoured you no doubt.

“But you do not need me, if you care for them. Ivar, he needs me in a way that you never will.” You try to reason.

“I wish to have you in my home, who else will keep my fire and bear my sons?” Hvitserk shrugged casually.

“Hvitserk,” his name is quiet as it leaves your lips. “I do not love you and you love another. End this, please. You will be free to have another wife, one better suited to you.”

“What will people say?” Hvitserk leaned down, his face in yours. “Hmm? If I let my brother take you, so that I can take my dead brother’s lover and child?”

“People will not dare speak against you, Hvitserk.” You find yourself stroking his cheek.

“And have Ivar win, again? All because he is acting like a child?”

“Don’t think of this as doing any favours for Ivar,” You press. “Think of it as doing this for me. You can have your life and I mine. It won’t matter what others whisper, you are a prince of Kattegat. It is noble of you to take in your brother’s child and to love her mother.” Your lean in, placing a soft kiss on his lips. “Go to them, bring them to meet Ivar when he calls.”

Hvitserk cupped your face, his eyes searching yours, as if looking for some sort of answer from the Gods themselves. Blinking against his stare, you continue to speak.

“When you return, tell him that you will agree to whatever he asks. Allow me to be his, in return for allowing you to choose your own wife.”

“And if he is angry?”

“He won’t be,” You assure him, “Not if you allow me to go to him, now. I will tell him that you are thinking about his offer. Let me soothe the beast.”

You could see his mind at work, his dark brow scrunched, and his jaw tensed – clenching and releasing, repeatedly – his eyes were hazed and his energy fidgeting without Hvitserk having to move. You laid your hand on his arm, hoping to calm him as you would Ivar.

“I will bring them,” Hvitserk replied, after a moment. “And I will agree to let you go, but you must warn him that I am bringing my own agreement.”

“Bring whatever terms you see fit,” Your smile can not be contained. The notion of Hvitserk giving in and allowing you the freedom that you’ve long craved, it makes you feel as though you’ve downed an entire barrel of mead. “And thank you, I am in your debt.”

Hvitserk smirked and winked playfully. “We shall discuss this debt, when you become Queen of Kattegat.”


End file.
